Pacifica put pressure on the armsman's wound while Lord Cobrin called for someone to bring him a tourniquet. Ujuur the Physician sprinted past, tossing one to Cobrin as she went to others in just as dire of need. Surgeons, their apprentices, Citrine Knights, orange dragons, and anyone who knew how to tie a bandage were pressed into service tending the many wounded.

    Cobrin tied the makeshift tourniquet tightly around the Nolaas armsman's thigh, eliciting a pained shriek from the patient. "Easy, lad," Cobrin growled to the gray-skinned boy. "I won't say you were lucky, but I will say you weren't so unlucky as you might've been. It just nicked the artery. Didn't tear it. Just remember the next time you get an arrow in you, leave it there until a professional can see it out safely."

    Pacifica knew she was white as a sheet. She kept her hands pressed down on the puncture wound in the boy's leg until Cobrin gently patted her wrist.

    "That's enough, my lady. Turn your head while I cauterize it."

    She tried to respond but found that she didn't have a voice anymore. Mindful of the warning, Pacifica looked away and smelled the stench of searing blood and flesh. The boy's cries broke into a hoarse scream.

    Cobrin removed the red-hot iron and leaned over the boy's face. "Sit tight, lad. One of the apprentices will be by, but you're not heading Beyond today. You hear me?"

    The armsman grit his teeth and nodded.

    "Good lad. Come along, my lady. I'll need those hands again before we're through."

    Pacifica dutifully followed in Cobrin's wake. The surgeon tents were packed to capacity, filled with the dying. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of soldiers from all of the Aleesh houses, a good number from the Crescent Legion as well, and even goodfolk from Sandharbor who'd gotten caught up in the battle after it took a turn for the worst.

    Once, they'd thought of the Battle of Mount Vorti as a disaster. If that was true, this was nothing short of calamity.

    Eleven hundred casualties. As many as half of those would be given to their pyres, and the rest needed medicine and treatment Shan Alee simply wasn't equipped to provide in short order. But that was only the warriors who still had bodies, to be treated or to burn. The fey were all but wiped out. Three thousand, gone without a trace. Seventeen dragons killed and twice that number seriously injured.

    Shan Alee was devastated.

    Yet, somehow, it was still a victory. Even as the empress' legion struggled to recover from the bloodiest combat it had yet faced, the Crescent Legion suffered far worse. When the Melcians believed themselves victorious, they hadn't been prepared for such... retribution.

    A dragon was deadliest when it was injured, as soon all the world would hear. The worst of the fighting was in the first day, but skirmishes had continued well into the night. Melcians and Aleesh maneuvered in darkness, falling upon each other beneath starlight. It continued past dawn, throughout the second day of fighting, and until the night came and left once again. Now, two days after the Battle of Sandharbor began, it had finally come to its end.

    Pacifica glanced furtively outside the tent as she trailed behind Cobrin. She only caught a glimpse of the woman standing at the edge of camp with her back to the tents. It was like she didn't wish to be seen. Covered from head to toe in the gore of the men she'd slaughtered, Jin hadn't moved from that spot since the fighting ended.

    Jin had fought tirelessly. Ruthlessly. Before she was done, she'd left entire battalions of corpses in her wake. Pacifica had only heard second-hand accounts, but from the little she'd learned, Jin was single-handedly responsible for there even being a Shan Alee anymore.

    What Jin had done...

    Pacifica swallowed and focused on what Cobrin asked of her. She lent what assistance she could. The need for helpers was so great that the Lord of Citrines wouldn't turn away anyone willing to get their hands bloody, even pampered princesses who didn't know a tourniquet from a bandage.

    It was the least she could do. Had Pacifica only seen a way to talk Zoputan away from the battle as she was supposed to, none of this would have happened.

    The wounded had been coming in steadily throughout the fighting. Only now, with the sun reaching its zenith, was the influx of casualties showing signs of abating. The reason why that was made Pacifica feel ill, because it was due to those they hadn't been able to reach succumbing to their injuries before help could find them. Anyone who hadn't come by now was already dead.   

    Ban hadn't come back. Krayson hadn't come back. And Moon...

    Cobrin caught Pacifica's arm before she realized she'd grown unsteady on her feet.

    "Waves, how long you been here, my lady?" he asked.

    Pacifica shook her head. "No longer than you."

    "I've got a dragon sending strength and wakefulness my way. You don't anymore." He gave her a gentle push away from the sick beds. "You'll be needed elsewhere, Lady Regent. You'll be doing the empire more good by catching rest than you ever could here."

    Pacifica tried to protest, but Cobrin was true to form. He didn't ever seem willing to let her get a word in edgewise.

    "Before you pass out," he said, pressing a bundle of sprouts into her hand, "give this to Her Highness. Force them down her throat if you have to. Poor girl's nine-tenths dead of ethershock. Couldn't say how she's even standing." Cobrin shot a glance towards another pampered princess inexplicably lending aid to the surgeons. "Take that one with you. I got enough to do without fretting over royals bent on working themselves to death."

    Pacifica nodded tiredly and went to where Princess Nkeoma was wiping blood from a surgery table with sawdust and lye. She let Nkeoma finish before taking her by the hand.

    "Come with me?"

    Nkeoma's eyes were bloodshot as she nodded her assent. Pacifica's heart went out to her. She'd lost her sister, a sacrifice to her family's elder magic and her father's warmongering. Omolade had paid the ultimate cost to banish the fey and fueled the elder magic with her own lifeblood. She left behind a little sister who'd tried everything, even going to the enemy, to stop it from happening. Now, Nkeoma remained with Shan Alee, because it seemed she had nowhere else to go.

    Aside from a few stragglers running for their lives northward, the Crescent Legion no longer existed. The Quartz Knights were certain Prince Zoputan was among the scattered soldiers headed for Adezu. He had only his personal guard of seely fey left to him.

    Dragons had boldly attacked the Melcian militia that attempted to contain the Aleesh forces. They polymorphed into birds on the approach, assumed their truest forms when they were right on top of the batteries of ballistae, and devastated the militia before they could effectively respond. Meanwhile, Jin led a cadre of Arcane Knights into the heart of the Crescent Legion. Her attack was brutal and efficient. A meticulous slaughter. One by one, she eliminated arcanists embedded within the Melcian ranks and exposed them to dragon fire from above. That hadn't been the end of the battle, only the beginning.

    The Melcians tried falling back into Sandharbor. They found death waiting for them in the form of the Sapphire and Ruby Knights. Driven from their last hope for cover, the Melcians stood their ground and fought defiantly to the last man across the countryside.

    And Jin didn't stop. She asked for no quarter and gave none. She pressed the attack, and now thousands of corpses lay in the fields surrounding Sandharbor.

    And nowhere in all of that did anyone see what had happened to Ban. He wasn't the only one gone. Krayson hadn't returned from wherever he tried to teleport with Moon. No one could find Lord Hugin or the Artificer, either. All four were being listed as missing in action, presumed dead. However, until Pacifica had proof of that, she assumed they'd all show up sooner or later.

    Pacifica approached where Jin stood, but she stopped when she noticed Nkeoma's hesitation.

    "Princess?" Pacifica asked gently.

    Nkeoma stared ahead. She wrung her hands, and her expression was haunted. "She was as a beast. Had I nay seen it with mine own eyes, I would nay believe her capable of such savagery."

    Pacifica hung her head. "I don't know what to say. Moon was special. Jin and Enfri were close to her, and what happened..."

    "Punishment," Nkeoma said. "When I was a girl, mine sister took me with her for a hunt. Omolade's arrow took a panther in the flank. We tracked the wounded predator into the Reach. Cornered her, and there she was her most deadly."

    Pacifica drew closer to Nkeoma's side.

    "Ten men with spears were nay enough to dispatch the panther. Even as her entrails hung beneath her belly, she fought on. She fought as I have nay ever seen anything fight before. She was indomitable, because the beast knew she was already dead and had nay else to lose. She sought to punish us for killing her."

    Pacifica looked to where Jin stood alone, staring into the sky.

    "See to Her Highness, my lady," Nkeoma said. "I fear there is a pain within her that none of you know."

    Nkeoma walked slowly away, eyes on the ground.

    Pacifica watched her leave and sighed. Perhaps it would be best to allow Nkeoma some time alone with her grief. Afterwards, perhaps there could be a chance for the princess to return to her homeland. Peace with Melcia didn't seem possible any longer, but Nkeoma shouldn't have to suffer for that more than she already had.

    She'd done what she could to help the peace happen, and she lost her sister as a result.

    Pacifica turned back towards Jin and approached at a careful pace. "Jin?"

    Jin blinked and looked at Pacifica. As she stood in the shadow of a tree, there was a faint glow in her beast-like eyes. Her face was streaked with blood, her hair matted to her scalp. The wounds on her arm inflicted by her osteomancy were gone, sealed as part of her elder magic. "Yes?"

    "Are you..." Pacifica swallowed. "Waves, Jin, are you alright?"

    "Of course," Jin said. She faced Pacifica directly. "I apologize if I worried you."

    She spoke as if nothing was wrong, as if she weren't drenched in the blood of dead men. Pacifica narrowed her eyes and held forth the vex sprouts Cobrin gave her. "You should eat these. Fresh from Kiffa Smith's garden."

    Jin took them. "Thank you."

    "Waves and tides, Jin, is that all you have to say?"

    "Thank you very much?"

    Pacifica planted her fists on her hips.

    Jin looked away. "Levity was an unworthy way to go."

    "Not your best choice," Pacifica agreed. She touched Jin on the arm. "Ban would've appreciated it."

    "I should be looking for him," Jin said. "When I returned to the command post, he was gone. He would not have allowed himself to be taken without a fight."

    Pacifica felt her lip tremble, but she forced her voice to remain steady. "Even after..."

    Jin shut her eyes and pressed her lips together.

    "Let's face this head on," Pacifica said firmly. "Moon's dead. Or banished back to the Ethereum, or whatever it was Omolade did to the fey. Ban saw it happen, and we both know him well enough to see he's always been a short step from falling to pieces. He has been ever since the Protectorate. Ban almost lost himself when Kimpo was taken, and this is worse. So much worse."

    "It's as you say." Jin took in a slow breath. "This should not have happened."

    "We did all we could."

    "Perhaps we did the wrong things. Perhaps I did. However, there is no point in dwelling on what might have been. I can only move forward as I must."

    Pacifica nodded grimly. "You're right, and as I see it, what I must do is make sure you get some rest."

    Jin snorted. "It seems I cannot help but get bullied by whomever rules Shan Alee."

    A small smile appeared on Pacifica's face. "At least I'm not making a pass at you like the last couple rulers would."

    Jin looked down at herself and grimaced. "I would hope not. I'm hardly putting my best face forward at the moment." She eyed Pacifica sidelong and raised her brow. "I may need a bath."

    "Kora set one up in the stream near Enfri's cottage before the legion arrived. I hear it's not all that peaceful. Something about geese making nuisances of themselves."

    "Enfri's birds," Jin chuckled. "The way she talks about them, there must be a way to train her geese into a strike force."

    It sounded like Jin was coming out of her dark mood. She was made of tougher metal than most. It was just a tragedy that Jin had to endure that metal being fired within the forge again and again without end. She deserved a time of peace with her sky woman.

    "Come along," Pacifica said, holding out her hand. "I'll take you there and help get you cleaned up for bed."

    "It's midday," Jin protested.

    "And you haven't slept in two nights. You're heading to bed and I won't allow you out of it until tomorrow morning."

    Jin accepted her hand and let Pacifica link their arms. She seemed self-conscious of getting Pacifica's dress dirty, but it was already a moot point. Enough blood had been accumulated over the last forty hours that Pacifica doubted this dress would escape being burned.

    Getting Jin bathed was a trying experience. The sheer amount of caked and dried blood covering her necessitated that Pacifica call in a pair of nearby female armsmen to assist. As for Jin's armor, it went straight to the armorers for cleaning and repair. Pacifica used her authority as regent to have it made a priority, but it wouldn't likely be ready until the next day. Jin had little to wear other than that. It seemed the only blouse she'd brought with her from the Spired City had been misplaced by the camp's washer women weeks ago, and there was no sign of where it'd ended up. Jin had little else but armor and gowns in her luggage trunks.

    Pacifica got herself cleaned up, also. After all the nagging she gave Jin, it'd be hypocritical in the extreme if she didn't get some rest herself. One of the washer women was kind enough to bring a pair of dressing robes to the bath for the two princesses.

    Once Jin was bathed, in a dressing robe, and bundled into her and Enfri's tent in the legion's camp, Pacifica had taken it as her personal mission to see her situated. She fretted through Jin's luggage, pausing to admire how fine some of these gowns were. "We really should have a discussion on your lack of casual wear," Pacifica murmured.

    Jin stood back by her tent's entry, hair still damp and arms folded. "My armor has always served as my casual wear."

    "I can't settle on if that's admirable or a flaw," Pacifica said. She clapped her hands when she finally found something suitable. "Here we are. At least you have some nightdresses. Only... waves, is this Gaulatian negligee?"

    Jin took a step closer and raised a hand in futile forestallment. "I... err..."

    "So much lace," Pacifica whispered. "Jin, will this be comfortable?"

    "That's... um... one I usually reserve for..."

    Pacifica blushed and folded the garment back up. "I see. How about this pink one?"

    Jin came forward and took it from Pacifica's hands. Her cheeks were red, too. "Thank you. This will do."

    Pacifica shut the trunk and stood. "I'll leave you be. Get plenty of rest, and once we're both at our best, we can see about finding Ban and the others."

    She made to leave, but Jin caught her wrist. Pacifica looked back in surprise, feeling inexplicably flushed. Jin was peering at her, her beast-like eyes almost able to pierce into her soul.

    "Don't go," Jin whispered.

    That flush became decidedly less inexplicable. "Jin?"

    "I have a sixth-sense for this sort of thing," Jin said calmly. "You will stay with me, and we can talk about why I'm so certain your courting preference has changed."

    "N-not changed, so to speak," Pacifica stammered. "More like, it's maybe expanded?"

    "Ah."

    "Maybe."

    "Aha."

    "Now, see here," Pacifica said, raising her voice. "I couldn't rightly say what I feel for Reyn right now."

    "I knew it," Jin murmured under her breath.

    "What I can say for certain is I care for her a great deal, and that's plenty more important than if I'd want to... want to..."

    "Kiss her?" Jin ventured.

    Pacifica clamped her mouth shut.

    "Make love to her?" Jin pressed.

    Pacifica covered her face with her hands.

    Jin smiled and guided Pacifica to sit beside her on the cot. "I'll listen," she promised. "You, my friend, need to talk this over with someone more familiar with how it all works."

oOo

    Ban jostled in the back of a wagon. His wrists and ankles were bound by thick, steel manacles. A dull ache throbbed in the back of his head. There was a sharp pain somewhere in his molars where he'd been struck, and he was sure one of his back teeth had been cracked open. It made drinking water torture.

    The sun was harsh, and the heat was oppressive. Now that they rode beneath the canopy of flowering trees, he at least had some shade, but the humidity in the air only grew. Ban sweated rivers in his uniform. Damp as it was, the ash carried by Omolade's banishing wind still clung to him. The gray dust was all that was left of his tribe.

    Perhaps the green ones survived. The camp workers, the wounded, those who came to mend weapons and armor, manage supplies, and to be with their families among the blooded kith... they might have escaped. The Lost Company Tribe might yet endure with Shan Alee.

    But not the most important part of it. Not the part that bound Ban to them. Without her, he was just a slayer again. The tribe wouldn't allow Death Fire among them.

    Once again, Ban tried drawing healing through the bond. Wherever Kimpo was, she was alive and well, but the Dekaam spike driven into his neck prevented him from using their connection. The Melcian mage slayer, a magocracy-trained specialist, rode in the wagon with the drover, often casting worried looks over his shoulders at the prisoners.

    Hugin raised his arms over his head and yawned as if all this was no bother. Nooka, taken human form, was the only one of the ten captives who let his anxiety show. Dragons weren't accustomed to being prisoners. His Emerald, however, had been taken captive a time or two throughout his years of campaigning. Hugin was an old hat at it. Once by Southron raiders, three other times during small disputes between House Karst and rival houses. Each time, he was either ransomed back or released after an accord was struck. Just another part of being a career soldier.

    The other prisoners were Hugin's first and second officers, three of his crew, and two scribes from the legion. As far as Ban could tell, they were the only prisoners of war the Melcians had managed to take away from Sandharbor.

    His captors watered them often, but they'd yet to feed them. Anxious, Ban supposed, after what he did to the last man who tried forcing his mouth open. Chained and divested of his sigils, yet still dangerous. Hugin had chastised him for busting up the lad's face, but Ban wasn't in the mood to behave.

    "I nay imagine you believe what I say, mine friend, but I am sorry it has come to this."

    Ban raised his eyes to the speaker. Zoputan rode behind the wagon, two armored angels walking on his either side. Dismounted, they were still almost the same height as their prince.

    "You are nay the only man to know loss from this battle. Nay the first."

    Ban's lip curled.

    Zoputan swallowed and raised his chin. "I nay need to remind you, Bannlyth, of the ransom that must be paid to mine family's elder magic. Omolade gave her life to it, and in return, we were given our chance to stop your insurrection, once and for all."

    Ban held the prince's gaze.

    "We may now secure the west," Zoputan continued. "Unchallenged, Melcia will rebuild our strength to face the coming doom. First Shan Alee, then the Horde, and then..."

    "Who are you trying to convince?" Ban growled.

    Zoputan shut his mouth. He looked down at Ban as if seeking the right thing to say, but as far as Ban was concerned, there was nothing left that could be said. Perhaps they had been friends once, but some actions— and what came of it— were unforgivable. Ban had no intention of trying.

    "You nay believe me, but I am sorry for your loss."

    "No," Ban said, deathly quiet. "You're not."

    Zoputan stiffened.

    Ban bared his teeth. "Not yet."

    "I burned mine sister on her pyre," Zoputan whispered.

    "That was your doing. Not ours. Don't you dare look to me for sympathy."

    "Queen Omolade did as duty required of her."

    "May she rot for it," Ban snarled.

    Zoputan drew his sword and swung it by the blade. The cross guard smashed against Ban's jaw, reigniting the shooting pain in his teeth.

    Ban spat out blood and a shard of molar. He continued to sit and glare at the prince.

    Zoputan exhaled through his nose, the breath shaking with his anger. He returned his blade to its scabbard. "You are to be taken to Adezu. There, you will be tried as traitors to the Five Kingdoms. May the essence of all spirits judge you, Bannlyth, and may Mother Sun grant you her mercy."

    The prince spurred his mount and rode ahead. His angels trailed dutifully behind him like a couple of dogs. Ban cursed at them under his breath.

    "Have to say, my lord," Hugin rumbled, "but you had that one coming."

    "Sod off, Hugin," Ban muttered.

    "The wee lady would be calling you a rocker right about now."

    Ban turned his head to glare at Hugin.

    "Tell me I'm wrong, my lord," Hugin said, unperturbed.

    Ban grunted and averted his eyes.

    "They're not dead," Hugin said more gently. "Before we were all spiked, I felt them in my witchery. Our goblin friends were lending a bit of their fire spirits to our spells." He chuckled. "I tell you, I heard voices naming me Red Voice each time I shouted out spellfire. They promised to burn the hearths a little brighter for my Stone Fist and our little blue. Our kith comrades are alright sorts, and they don't need bodies to be."

    A part of Ban could appreciate what Hugin was trying to say, but he wasn't in a state of mind to hear it. He'd grown accustomed to grief. To loss. And pain no longer seemed to have any meaning for him.

    What was pain when it could be erased through a bond? What was suffering when it was a constant? What was loss beside the countless thousands falling to the doom every day?

    Ban's pain was meaningless. He'd become his pain, so he must've been meaningless, too. All of them were. Some just hadn't accepted it yet. They still fought against the pain, believing there was any hope of outpacing it.

    Best to give in. Best to stop fighting it. If he'd learned anything since becoming a paladin, it was that nothing had meaning. Not anymore, if it ever did.

    Somewhere, unreachable in the Ethereum, Ban's lisichka still existed. He wanted to hope the rybka was with her, but he couldn't be certain for an unborn feyling. For all he knew, mother and child had been ripped apart, one kept in the Ethereum while the other was sent Beyond. If that. Many dogmas, including the one Ban was raised to, stated a child didn't receive a soul until near birth. Ban and Moon's baby was lost to oblivion.

    Such was the way of things. Ban's family had no meaning either. Just another loss. Just more pain. Another offering to cruel gods who only wished to find new playthings they could take away. Ban had been a fool. Loving Moon had been a mistake.

    His love killed her. His love killed their child.

    Ban had wanted to meet Moon's child so badly. Omolade stole their rybka from him, and now there wasn't anything left of Omolade for Ban to avenge his family upon. Her family would have to serve. Revenge would be meaningless, because nothing in this world had meaning. But, on the other hand, that meant that Ban could do as he wished without regret.

    House Akazewi wanted a traitor. They wanted a scapegoat. A boogeyman to parade before the masses and name as the source of their woes. They wanted an enemy. A dangerous beast of a man to personify the evil they preached against. A dangerous, vengeful, and wicked monster.

    Ban raised his eyes to the road ahead. The silver towers of Adezu appeared far in the distance over the jungle canopies. Days of travel away, but getting closer. Zoputan escorted the remnants of his shattered legion into the heart of Melcia.

    In the back of a prisoner's wagon, Ban felt fires of hatred burning behind his eyes, and he glared at those towers until he could almost see them consumed by his malice. They wanted a monster so badly?

    They had one.